


Let Me Back In

by Asrael_Valtiri



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Crying, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Sucks at Flirting, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, That's no way to treat your Ginger!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 20:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asrael_Valtiri/pseuds/Asrael_Valtiri
Summary: Kylo Ren invites General Hux to his quarters for the first time. Kylo Ren has never had a guest before. What could possibly go wrong?





	Let Me Back In

Hux was always punctual. Not early. Not late. If there was a word that existed that meant “the most perfectly punctual person who ever lived” then Ren would use that word to describe Hux.

But there wasn’t any such word.

Oh wait, yes, there was. That word was, “Armitage Hux.”

Actually that was two words.

The time was 1855 hours, and Hux would arrive at Ren’s quarters at 1900. Not a minute before. Not a minute after. 

That meant Hux would be arriving in five minutes. No, actually four, as Ren had just wasted one minute fretting about Hux’s imminent arrival.

Ren’s armpits were damp. No, to say they were damp would be to misrepresent the facts--his armpits were not merely damp, but drenched. 

Did he smell? 

He raised his arm and quickly sniffed. 

Yes, he did. 

But what to do? 

He didn’t have time to change clothes. He could cover himself with his cowl. He wasn’t planning on wearing it, but maybe he should? He snatched it from the pile of clothes he had hastily kicked under the bed and draped it over his head and around his shoulders. He stood in front of the mirror and regarded his reflection. 

Yes? 

No? 

No. He threw it off, kicking it under the bed again. He could just wear his helmet, although he hadn’t planned on it. Hux had seen him before without it, several times. And while they often had sex with the helmet on, lately they had been having sex with the helmet off. 

But no, Ren didn’t want to wear his helmet tonight, for reasons he couldn’t quite define. Maybe it had something to do with his lips touching Hux’s lips. It could also have something to do with the fact that he had recently developed a voracious appetite for cock.

But now the cowl had messed up his hair. He ran his fingers through it, still acutely aware of the unsolved armpit problem. But maybe Hux liked that gross smell? Ren sighed, flummoxed, and took a last glance around the room. 

Bed, made. Maybe “made” was the wrong word, but at least the single black pillow and blanket were on the bed and not the floor. The pedestal displaying his one possession of note was impressively dust free. His simple black bench was clear of debris, and on the table he had carefully placed a bottle of an odd green liqueur and two glasses. 

The label on the bottle said “Chartreuse.” 

The supplier who had acquired it for Ren had assured him that Chartreuse was an elegant apertif that was best served cold, although room temperature was also acceptable. Ren very much looked forward to impressing Hux by cooling the Charteuse with the Force. Yes, he would pour Hux a glass of the tepid Chartreuse and then use the Force to make the liquid ice cold while Hux held the glass in his hand. 

Also, the odd bright green color was pleasing, which is what had drawn Ren to it in the first place; it appealed to his Sith sensibilities. But he was worried about the taste. Every time he had tried alcohol in the past, it had tasted like the time when he was a kid and he accidentally got a mouthful of gasoline (don’t ask). But he would fake it. Surely with all of his Force training he could choke down a few sips of the weird green stuff without coughing or making a dumb face. 

Ren ran through the plan in his head one more time: 

He would open the door, greet Hux. He wasn’t sure what he would say that wouldn’t be insulting. After all, he had been insulting Hux for so long that it was almost second nature. But now that things were, well, different with Hux, perhaps a more nuanced greeting would be best. 

He could say, “Hello.” 

Or! Even better! He could say, “Hello. Please come in.” 

He would take Hux’s coat and put it…Where? On the bed. Yes. he would tell Hux to have a seat on the bench. But the bench was hard. Ren grabbed the pillow from his bed and placed it on the bench. There. He would tell Hux to sit on the pillow, and then he would sit down beside Hux and pour them both a drink. After that, the rest would be easy. Ren had a very good idea of what would happen next. 

He almost smiled.

He made a last minute decision, dimming the lights from 50 percent to 30 percent as his door chimed. 

1900 hours. 

Ren tugged at his collar and brushed imaginary dust off his tunic. He ran his hands down his back side making sure the back panel of his tunic wasn’t tucked into his pants (it wasn’t).

He suddenly considered pretending like he wasn’t home. He could always make up an excuse, and tell Hux later, “Oh sorry, I wasn’t home, Snoke sent me off on blah blah blah mission.”

He had never invited anyone to his rooms before. This was a bad idea. Hell, even when he was a kid he never had a friend over in his room. He always just played in his room by himself. This wasn’t just a bad idea, it was a terrible idea.

Oh well. Fuck it. 

Ren opened the door. 

“General Hux,” he said (which wasn’t at all what he’d planned on saying).

Hux was smiling. Or he had been. Now, he quirked a brow. 

“Good evening, Lord Ren.” 

His voice was clipped and imperious. Hux’s posture was straight, as always, his shoulders squared, his head held high. 

He strode into Ren’s dark quarters as if he was striding onto the bridge, taking command of his ship. Now Hux stood in the center of the room, facing Ren, his gloved hands behind his back. 

The general’s pale face was impossible to read. 

Was Hux happy to be here? 

Or was coming here a chore? 

Was he disgusted by Ren’s quarters, or, worse, by Ren himself? 

Ren started to panic. Maybe he should tell Hux that Snoke had just summoned him, and that he would have to reschedule.

Hux spoke first. “What is the agenda, Ren? I can only assume you invited me to your quarters for a reason.”

“I don’t have to have a reason.” Ren said automatically. 

“Very well,” Hux said smoothly, “I am here for no reason, then.” 

His face was still placid, his expression unreadable. 

“I suppose we will have to improvise then,” Hux said. “Flexibility is one of my many talents. As you are well aware.”

Hux removed his heavy greatcoat. Ren’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Hux’s slim body, the sleek, fitted black uniform, the small waist accented by a simple, elegant belt, the boots polished to a high sheen.

“Is it?” Ren said, confused, not sure if Hux was flirting or irritated or what. 

“You look nice,” Ren wanted to say. “You look really nice.” 

Instead he found himself saying, “Then why did you come here? If you know everything then tell me--why are you here?”

Hux scoffed.

“Because you invited me, of course.”

“You always hear what you want to hear, don’t you, general?”

Ren took a step toward Hux.

“Perhaps I do,” Hux said calmly. “Although I think you made your intentions quite clear when you invited me to come alone to your chambers. Would you like me to show you the message that you sent?”

Hux took a step toward Ren, and now they were very close. 

Hux’s voice was husky. “Don’t waste my time, Ren. I am a very busy man.”

Ren could feel the Force humming around him, The air was warm and electric and something in Hux’s tone of voice made something in Ren snap. He felt the darkness lashing out, like a flame bursting out of his chest, a hungry flame wanting to consume. 

“You’re the busiest man on the ship, aren’t you, general?”

“Why?” said Hux. “Are you keeping track? Shall I clock in and out and report back to you every week with my time card?”

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you?”

Hux sighed. “I am. And so, I would appreciate it if you would get to the point. If this is an interrogation, then I must admit I’m a bit disappointed. No interrogation chair?”

Wait, was Hux mocking him?

Ren growled and used the Force to reach out like long, invisible arms. Two around Hux’s ankles, two around his wrists, and one around his neck.

Ren extended his gloved hand and the invisible hands squeezed, not enough to hurt Hux, but enough to immobilize him.

“Ren!” Hux cried out, his eyes wide, hurt. “What are you thinking? Stop it! Let go of me!”

“You’re such a busy man,” said Ren, his voice calm, “You’re proud of it. It makes you feel useful. It makes you forget how lonely you are. You feel superior because you’ve given everything to the First Order, to your new weapon. You named the weapon yourself--say the name--the name you are so proud of.”

“No,” said Hux.

“Say. It.”

“Starkiller,” Hux’s voice was cold. 

“Yes. Building it consumed years of your life, but it will be undone in minutes. I’ve seen it. You’ll see.”

“And what of the Order? Will the Order survive?” Hux breathed.

“You tell me. But you can’t, because you are willfully ignorant. Of the Force. Of everything you don’t understand.”

“Let me go, Ren.” 

His face was so pale. His gloved hands were clenched at his sides. He wasn’t fighting Ren. He was frozen, willing himself not to move, barely daring to breathe, lest Ren tighten his grip. His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyelashes fluttered delicately. 

“Ren,” Hux said. “Please.”

Ren growled and let go. 

Hux staggered back, then quickly righted himself. 

“Unbelievable,” Hux said, breathing hard, his voice strained. “You invited me here to bully me, to treat me in the same deplorable way that you treat our officers. You have no respect for me--for the Order--for anything. If you hate all of this so much, why don’t you just go? Is Snoke testing you? Is that what all of this is? Don’t think I don’t see you for what you are--Snoke’s slave.”

“I’m his apprentice,” said Ren. “His rightful heir. I hold the place of highest honor. You fail to see what you are--a pawn. Nothing more.”

Hux blinked. He brushed a stray lock of hair off of his face. Forgetting about his greatcoat, he turned and strode to the door.

“I should never have come,” he said.

The sight of Hux’s back nearly caused Ren’s vision to blur. He envisioned his hands were claws, metallic ebony claws, sharp talons that would tear into the soft flesh of Hux’s back.

Hux held his hand in front of the keypad but the door wouldn’t open. Ren regarded the door casually, holding it shut with the Force. He reached out with his mind, and deep scratch marks raked down the door, carving into it with a metallic screech. Hux watched in horror.

“No,” he said, punching the keypad to no avail. He turned and ran for the open door to Ren’s bedchamber. 

The door slammed shut. And Ren stood in the center of the room, his gaze cold. 

Hux’s eyes darted wildy before he reached for his blaster and aimed it at Ren. His arm was steady.

“Open the door,” Hux said.

Ren flicked his hand, and sent the blaster flying across the room. It hit the wall and landed on the floor with a clatter. 

“Don’t come near me,” Hux said. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

Hux walked backward, circling around Ren but not turning his back on him.

“Hux,” Ren said, startled at the sound of his own voice. The lights flickered.

“Hux--I--”

“No.” Hux said. “No, not again, never again, no no no--” 

Hux dropped to the floor, scuttling behind the couch, curling up tightly, knees pressed up against his chest, facing the corner, his hands covering his head.

Ren blinked, shook himself. Where had the rage come from? Ren couldn’t even remember what they had been arguing about. He just remembered his own fury, blazing hot behind his eyes, the ebony claws, sharp and deadly, the vision of them raking down Hux’s back, blood spilling on Ren’s shiny black floor.

Ren looked around the room frantically, his breathing ragged, the vision dissipating, the darkness receding, like a fog, like a dream.

“Hux,” he said.

He heard whimpering in the corner and he stepped behind the couch, and there was Hux curled up in a ball at his feet. He was shuddering, his whole body was heaving. Was he hyperventilating? He put a hand on Hux’s back, and Hux jumped.

“No!” he whimpered and shivered more violently.

“Are you--are you cold?” It was a stupid thing to say. Hux wasn’t cold, he was terrified. Ren knew well the smell of fear. Ren stepped back and found he had no idea what to do.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll get you a--” Ren rushed to his bedchamber, the doors sliding open, and he grabbed his blanket.

“Hux,” he said lamely, wrapping the blanket around Hux’s shoulders.

“Let me go,” said Hux. “Just let me go.”

Hux’s voice sounded soft, broken. And Ren found that he missed Hux’s clipped, imperious tone, the voice he knew so well, the voice that had, moments ago, driven him into such a rage. 

“The Force,” he tried to explain, “I’m learning to control it, but sometimes I can’t. You were in the way of what it wanted. I didn’t mean to, but you were in the way--”

“I’m always in the way, aren’t I?” Hux muttered bitterly, his head covered by the blanket. “I know you wish I would just disappear. It’s a familiar feeling to me. My father wished the same.”

Hux’s nose sounded stuffy.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ren said. “I invited you here because I wanted you to come. You’re my guest.”

Ren's voice trembled as he said that word. Guest.

“You’re my guest,” he said again, and he felt like crumpling to the floor himself. He let out a strange, anguished sound. He felt bereft, an acute sense of loss, like something precious had been destroyed. He covered his face with his hands.

It was so easy to use the Force to bend, warp, shatter, and destroy, but to fix things, to put the fragments back together? No. He could not use the Force to do that.

He looked around the room, eyes stinging, like he was looking for an idea, for inspiration. 

And he saw the bottle of Chartreuse with the two glasses--a gift for Hux, to surprise him. Ren had placed it on the table so carefully, his heart pounding, a warm feeling in his chest as he imagined Hux’s eyes lighting up as he swirled the liqueur in his glass. 

“Hux, let me help you up.”

Ren tried, but Hux fussed and pulled away from his touch.

“I got you something,” Ren said stupidly. “A gift. Because you’re my guest.”

Ren felt like bringing the walls and ceiling and everything down around him and wallowing in the rubble and never coming out.

“Please, Hux,” Ren said. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

Hux shrugged off the blanket and turned to look at Ren, his face blotchy, his hair disheveled.

“Can we please--” said Ren, “can we please start over?”

Hux took a deep, shaky breath. He stood up, the blanket dropping to the floor. Ren offered his hand, but Hux ignored it. Hux composed his face quickly, although his nose was red. Ren watched as Hux walked into the bedroom, retrieved his greatcoat, then walked to the door and held his hand up to the keypad. The door slid open and Hux stepped out, offering Ren one last look at his back.

It was over. 

Ren had failed. 

He regarded the untouched bottle of Chartreuse. He closed his eyes, remembering how the bottle had felt in his hands, how entranced he was by the color, his excitement as he imagined Hux’s pleased smiled. Ren concentrated on the bottle, raising it, watching it hover in the air. How easy it would be to fling it into the door that Hux had left by and shatter it, and blame Hux for all of this. But no... 

He inclined his head and placed the bottle gently back on the table. 

He would leave the bottle and the two glasses as a reminder of what he had lost. 

There was a chime at the door.

Ren wasn’t sure what to do. 

The door chimed again. 

The door never chimed. No one would dare. Unless…

Ren opened the door.

Hux.

His face was composed, his hair pushed back into place, his uniform straight.

Their eyes met, and Hux raised an expectant brow, an unspoken question on his lips.

“Armitage,” Ren said haltingly. “Welcome. Come in. Here, let me take your coat.”

Hux slipped out of the coat, and Ren stood there with it draped over his arm.

“Thank you,” Hux said.

“Sit down. Here,” Ren said, motioning to the bench. The pillow Ren had placed for Hux was still in place.

Ren dashed to the bedroom, deposited the coat, and came back, looming over Hux.

“I didn’t think you would come,” he said.

  
  
“Have you ever known me to miss a meeting?”

  
  
“True. Here, do you want a drink? Let me pour you one.”

“Chartreuse?” Hux said. “Wonderful. I’ve always liked the color.”

Ren poured a glass for Hux and one for himself as he had seen Hux do in his own quarters, not a full glass, just about two fingers worth. Ren sat down next to Hux.

“Thank you,” said Hux.

Ren raised his glass and they clinked their glasses together as Ren had seen people do when they were celebrating. Ren had forgotten all about his plan to impress Hux by chilling his drink with the Force.

“Should I say something?” thought Ren. 

But Hux was looking at him, his eyes moist, his lips parted slightly, his skin very pale. 

Ren leaned forward and their lips met. 

And joy and sorrow and acceptance and betrayal and all the hurt that had come before and the promise of future pain for just a moment melted away, and it was just Ren, the gracious host, and Hux, his beloved, long-awaited guest, sharing a kiss one evening after work over a nice bottle of Chartreuse. 


End file.
